


I Want My City, I Want What's Pretty Too

by sandpapersnowman



Category: Tron - All Media Types, Tron: Legacy (2010)
Genre: Brainwashing, Dubious Consent, Loss of Identity, M/M, Multi, Restraints
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-07-10 07:55:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6974392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandpapersnowman/pseuds/sandpapersnowman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He'd admired the programs he'd seen at the club. Totally absorbed in their purpose, their calling; heads bobbing as they orchestrated every movement in the room and perfectly synced with each other.</p><p>He wanted them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Want My City, I Want What's Pretty Too

**Author's Note:**

> please god let me know if i'm missing a tag. i'm so sorry, tron fandom, for being Like This
> 
> title's from Phoenix's [_Party Time_](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/phoenix/partytime.html)

He'd admired the programs he'd seen at the club. Totally absorbed in their purpose, their calling; heads bobbing as they orchestrated every movement in the room and perfectly synced with each other.

Clu had adored them at first sight. He wanted them.

He’d managed to get them both safely out of the bar before the incident, two of his guards scrambling to retrieve the programs in the chaos. A direct order from him, and they know, of course, not to hurt them any more than what’s necessary.

They aren’t in mint condition when he sees them again. Low on energy, their circuits dim. The shorter one, the one with the more rounded helmet, is in worse shape, his circuits flickering and threatening to go out completely, though he’ll be fine. The taller one must have been able to hold his own better; where the shorter one is only bound at his wrists and feet, the taller one is bound all the way down his arms, at his waist, at his knees, and at his ankles. He wonders how many guards it took to get him restrained.

“Hello,” he says plainly, as though they’re meeting for business.

The taller one looks up at him, but neither address him.

“I’m a big fan,” Clu says, smiling, enjoying their defiance for the moment.

He steps forward slowly. He’s got all the time in the world to savor their company, after all.

He walks around the shorter one first. He hadn’t noticed before, but the bright streak across his face only makes up part of the pixels of his screen. Such a nice touch.

His hand runs over the top of his disc, and the program jerks like he’s been hurt worse. He yanks it off its mount and thinks he might have heard a small grunt from the program. It makes him smile wider.

Clu moves to the taller one and gives him the same once-over. _His_ lights take up the whole screen on his helmet, the thin strip that it is compared to the other. Not as versatile as the other’s, but he’ll make do.

He yanks the taller one’s disc away as well, and he makes a small noise. He’d love to take his time with the two of them, figure out what makes them tick before he makes them his, but he’s so, so eager to have two new pets.

It won’t take him long to adjust their discs. Hell, it’ll be easier than Rinzler’s programming was, because Rinzler needed to have all that obedience jammed into him, and he’s much more complex than these two put together. They’re just a couple DJs, not a top-of-the-line security program.

Really, ‘adjusting’ their discs is just going to be wiping all but the musical bits and the helmet bits. They’ll be a treat to have at appearances, constantly promoting him with adoring orange pixels on their helmet screens, creating low, ominous music for his entrances. He loves it already.

He keeps the music programming, the helmet programming, and their apparent preprogrammed relationship. They must have been made by the same user, if not in tandem to work together. Adds some undying loyalty, some obedience, some individuality; not enough to question him, of course, but enough to let them stand out from the guards and his other programs. More than he allows most of his trophies.

He returns to the room they’re being held in with their discs, one in each hand, so they can return to the proper owner. Not that it’d matter much if they got mixed up, since they’re just about blank slates (and identical blank slates at that) but it’s the thought that counts.

The taller one, with the thin screen, is scrolling ‘LONG LIVE THE USERS’, and the one with the larger screen just has a faded blue across each pixel, an exhausted attempt at User-supporting colors. Charming.

He yanks the one with the thin screen over, his front facing the wall of their cell, and some kind of static comes from the other--as though he’s trying to yell, but can’t. Interesting. He guesses they don’t have vocal functions after all. That’s always a bonus.

The disc is slotted into place, and his head falls forward as his screen’s display crashes. ‘LONG LIVE THE USERS’ blinks suddenly out. It takes a moment of whirring and clicking before things have settled into place, and the screen reboots.

‘CLU CLU CLU CLU CLU’ is what scrolls across it now, in orange, and as his head comes back up as though he’s regaining consciousness, his circuits flush orange like they’ve been bled into.

He pets his hand over the program’s helmet fondly.

“I think that suits you better.”

The program nods in agreement, and Clu loves him already.

He uses his own disc to cut the program’s bonds off, and ‘CLU CLU CLU CLU’ is interrupted by ‘THANK YOU’ for just a moment. He stands too close, but his circuits are so bright and _devoted_ that he doesn’t worry about it.

He faces the shorter one with a smile.

“Your turn.”

His circuits fade further as he puts all his effort into his helmet, the dim blue on his screen growing brighter and brighter as though it’s going to scare Clu away.

Clu laughs, and presses his cheek to the program’s helmet once he’s forced him to turn around as well.

“I promise, you’ll feel so much better after,” he mumbles. It’s the truth; the discs are charged, and they will be too. They won’t have any more worry or nerves, and the only decision they’ll ever make again is whether or not Clu loves them too, and the answer will _always_ be yes. He can’t imagine a simpler, more satisfying existence.

He slides the new disc into place. A moment later might have been too late, and Clu can almost feel the program’s body reaching out for the disc, for energy, for _survival_.

It’s over as quickly as it was for the other. His circuits burn so brightly orange that he’ll need energy again much sooner than the other, and his screen is… Full. Each pixel is lit in the brightest gold he’s ever seen, and it’s _beautiful_. 

He cuts the second program out of his bonds as he did the first.

“Do you feel better, sweetheart?”

His circuits dim back to a more even glow, and he nods.

“I promised you, didn’t I?”

The program moves forward now, to tuck his head under Clu’s chin, and Clu feels him nod against his chest.

The taller program presses against Clu’s side, and he gives a short laugh as he gets an arm around each of them. Their arms wrap around his torso, and the way they cling to him tells him their new programming has taken perfectly.

Clu sighs.

He can’t wait to show them to _everyone_.

**Author's Note:**

> did you know you can find me on [tumblr](http://sandpapersnowman.tumblr.com/ao3direct)? : O


End file.
